


i come to you in pieces (so you can make me whole)

by fantastiken



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Smoking, Teen Angst, there's a lot of general sadness here oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastiken/pseuds/fantastiken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human beings are bound to fail. Trip down and fall, scrape their knees, cry and look at their wounds with apprehension. Most of the time, they're also bound to get up and keep on walking, no matter how hard the fall is.</p><p>That bit — the recovery part — doesn't always happen, however. And that's how we arrive to the story of Jaehwan, the boy whose dreams never came true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ set during mydol  
> ~ please ignore that most of the songs i included were released after vixx existed  
> ~ [title taken from this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7Iv7W9B6Vg)  
> ~ [prompt](https://66.media.tumblr.com/18ae64cdcaa39fe6db85da1c5d157c0a/tumblr_och7l5hIBD1r7kdxjo1_400.png)

Jaehwan likes family reunions. Chuseok is, by far, his favorite.

It's no secret he loves spending time with his nieces, playing with them until his belly aches from laughing too much and his fingers are numb from crawling on the floor for too long. He also enjoys being an adult sometimes and savors those moments he shares with his parents over a cup of warm wine and a few laughs and easy conversations. His brothers and their wives have always been good to him, people to look up to and get support from.

Jaehwan likes family reunions, but he dreads the bursts of scolding he usually has to endure when the kids are asleep and the adults are being too adult-like.

This Chuseok is no different, although his eldest brother is considerate enough to take him to another room and speak to him quietly. He's nursing a mostly empty wineglass and looks at Jaehwan with concern in his eyes as he opens his mouth.

"Please, don't," Jaehwan says even before his brother can start talking.

He only gets a tired sigh as a response before a weary, "Jaehwan," leaves his lips. Jaehwan never gets the chance to speak again because then his brother is talking and he still holds enough respect within himself not to interrupt him. "You have to stop with that pity party you've been throwing for years already."

His words ring true in the warm silence of the laundry room. Jaehwan leans on the narrow space by the door, where a couple of fluffy white towels are hung on the wall.

"It was very sad that you couldn't make it," he says, eyes fixed on Jaehwan's avoiding gaze. "We know it hurt you a lot, but it's been four years already. Stand up and walk again, even if it hurts you, but don't let life eat away at you because even your nieces notice you're not alright."

That sets Jaehwan alert, a shuddered gasp caught in his throat. "I— I'm— I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," is the answer he gets, soft and careful. "We just want you to be alright, and to help you in any way we can. We're here if you need us, Jaehwan." His smile is a little crooked but it makes Jaehwan swallow hard, sudden tears welling up in his eyes. "Just a little reminder, in case you forgot."

 

 

[ _이렇게 못나 혼자 남아_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)  
[ _아직도 너를 그리워 해_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)  
[ _(foolish like this, i’m left behind_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)  
[ _but i still long for you)_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)

 

 

It takes Jaehwan a few more months to try to get to his feet for real.

He's terrified, unsure, and the feeling of unworthiness is almost crippling in the way it crunches his heart in every desperate beat. When he finds the boxes, hours and hours after cleaning wardrobes, drawers, rooms and cabinets, dread claws at him desperately, and an invisible pull begs him to not open them, leave them where they are and forget they even exist.

Jaehwan has to placate the urge to throw up. He’s scared — not of the things he may find in the boxes, but of the possibility that he might encounter another reason to find himself at fault. He doesn’t want to chance another brick on top of the wall of shame he’s had built inside for years. He doesn’t want another stroke of guilt on the messy painting his life has become. The fear is almost too much for him, but he manages to sit on the floor next to the boxes without passing out, and he thinks that’s maybe a baby step forward — where to, he doesn’t know.

There’s no way he doesn’t remember what’s in the boxes; he’s had their contents ingrained in his mind for years, but seeing it all once again brings back a new wave of nausea, a powerful kick to his guts he doesn’t have the will to dodge. Jaehwan feels faint. Before his eyes lays spread a bunch of painful memories in the shape of letters, a few notebooks, a thin stack of papers that read “HAPPY BDAY, JAEHWAN. WE ♥ YOU,” a handful of pictures, a t-shirt, an old discman, several CDs. 

Jaehwan stops in his tracks when he sees the CDs. He’s not aware he’s crying until a warm teardrop falls onto one of the CDs, right on top of its transparent case, where the name of a song is written. 

_Lee Sora - Tears_

How fitting. Jaehwan doesn’t laugh at the bitter irony, though, and more warm tears fall on the CD case as he bites his upper lip. It’s been years since he’s listened to the song and yet he still remembers the lyrics perfectly, every word stabbing him in the chest with surgical precision.

After that he guesses he can only move forward, so he puts the CD aside to pick a handful of others from the box to his left. His hands are full in no time — he’s got them by the dozen.

Some of them are pretty nondescript — white CD, clear case and only the name of the song and artist scribbled on it. Most of them, however, have a message inside that Jaehwan doesn’t dare read. He can’t bring himself to, yet. However, he can’t help but stare at the back of them, hands shaky, when he remembers that all of them must have a signature. 

He’s not wrong. That tiny, tidy R makes him shiver as a fresh wave of tears makes him swallow hard. Ravi.

Wonsik had given him all those CDs years ago, when they were still trainees together and Jaehwan’s dreams hadn’t been crushed to bring him back to the real, cruel world with a slap to the face. Wonsik gave Jaehwan a bunch of CDs and Jaehwan had to beg one of his brothers to lend him their old, half-smashed discman to be able to listen to them. Wonsik gave Jaehwan a lot of CDs laced with a lot of memories that Jaehwan hasn’t forgotten but that today hurt more than ever.

Because back then he had let Wonsik down, and everyone else after that, and Jaehwan had fallen despite Wonsik’s hands holding him firmly. Because it’s been four years and Jaehwan still hasn’t gotten up. 

 

 

[ _거울 속에 나 참 못생겼어_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)  
[ _(in the mirror, i look so ugly)_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuaefJUmg8U)


	2. Chapter 2

The room was bustling with people going to and fro, frantic, spewing out urgent orders and requests and having overall too little time to prepare. Wonsik was standing by the door, his makeup and clothes already done by some sort of miraculous feat. He could hear Hongbin murmuring to the camera pointing at his face.

“Something about getting our makeup done doesn’t feel right,” he said, and the makeup artist smiled. It didn’t get captured on film.

Wonsik understood what Hongbin meant. They were all confused most of the time and the new atmosphere, the prospect of their first photoshoot and the challenge ahead was enough to set them off balance. Everything was very fresh, very recent.

MyDOL had just started a few days before. Their little bundle of trainees, well-bonded and close, had been introduced to three new members who would be added to the mix. All ten of them would try to get through the missions and earn themselves a spot in the new boygroup Jellyfish Entertainment would be debuting shortly. The new additions to the group had not exactly been well received by everyone. Whoever took it best was, at least, scared shitless, although they seemed to have kept a sort of peaceful aura in general despite the first inevitable clashes.

Jaehwan was bouncing around, his makeup done as well, and came up to Wonsik with a smile. It was tense, the way it had been for the past few days — just like the rest of him. Jaehwan was usually chatty, energetic, a little bit of an airhead sometimes. Now he was just very confused, nervous under the surface even if he only let his cheerful side shine through. Wonsik saw right through him, though. He could see all those emotions playing in Jaehwan’s eyes because he was also scared, scared that his dreams would just vanish into thin air after working so hard to reach them, scared that all his effort would be for nothing.

With the new members came not only MyDOL, but also brand new schedules, new expectations, new things to prepare, new songs, routines, emotions.

Like a log, the first individual evaluation for the program came by as well. It was like a boost of adrenaline to some, like the bitter drag of a cigarette to others. Jaehwan positively looked like he was drowning in front of Wonsik’s eyes. All the unabashed confidence he usually exuded had simply vanished like smoke as the date of the evaluation had approached. Wonsik didn’t understand why. He’d seen Jaehwan dance and heard him sing and there was no way he’d let anyone down with what he had to offer.

 _Same old sad song_ sounded lovely on Jaehwan’s lips, strong voice and controlled vocal range. Wonsik had heard it countless times through the walls of their badly-soundproof practice rooms at night, after dinner when Jaehwan hummed it in the shower, even in the way his bony fingers would tap the melody on every surface he could reach whenever he was distracted.

He did certainly well during the evaluation — his mosquito impression cracked everyone up for sure — and, although the judges’ words were mostly kind, they were sharp on the edges as well. Jaehwan got cut, fine cutting lines settled on the surface but also deep in his bones.

Wonsik had to sit through the rest of the evaluations and barely scrape through his own to be able to get to Jaehwan. He knew him too well and could see his already bleeding heart.

 

 

It was obnoxiously late at night by the time Wonsik got to catch Jaehwan alone. He was aware that none of the others were asleep, but time had taught them to shut their ears and not overhear conversations they were not invited to listen.

Jaehwan was hunched over the sink, water dripping down his long nose and the tips of his hair. He needed a haircut. His hands were gripping the porcelain edge so hard Wonsik found it painful, although he said nothing and just stepped into the bathroom quietly, slipping the door closed with a soft click. He then pried Jaehwan’s hands from the sink slowly and rubbed them against his own to get circulation flowing back into numb fingers. Jaehwan’s eyes were downcast, brows knitted together and a scowl turning the corners of his lips downwards.

“Say it.” It wasn’t a command, but Wonsik knew his voice was concerned enough to coax words out of Jaehwan with relative ease. He could feel weariness seeping through his bones and he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep for a couple of hours, but his heart pushed forward and kept him awake for Jaehwan’s sake. “Say it, Jaehwan.”

A shaky breath rattled Jaehwan’s thin frame, and his voice was barely a whisper but spoke volumes in the tiny bathroom. “I’m not gonna make it, am I?”

The insecurity which laced every word was so potent that Wonsik could feel his own heart stop for a split second — fear was a powerful emotion, after all. His hold on Jaehwan’s hands tightened for a second before he let them go and held Jaehwan’s face between his own carefully instead.

“Hey,” he called. Jaehwan bit his lip but looked up once Wonsik squeezed his cheeks. “You’ll make it. I’ll make it. We’ll both make it, okay?”

Jaehwan blinked slowly, tears not yet spilling.

“But I’m not— I— The judges—”

Wonsik understood Jaehwan’s feelings, but he couldn’t let him drown in them. They couldn’t afford that, not anymore. So he pressed his thumb to Jaehwan’s lips for a moment to stop him from blabbering himself into oblivion.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Wonsik assured him with a nod. “We’re debuting together like we promised.”

And he wished his words would become a reality in the future, for he would have been betraying Jaehwan otherwise. Right then, he was just content when he saw Jaehwan’s shoulders relax and a heavy sigh leave his lips. The hug that followed it was soft, worn out and so very familiar.

*

*

> Jaehwan has bought new batteries. He needs them for his brother’s old discman to work, all gears whirring laboriously after years of disuse.
> 
> He’s still hesitant, too nervous when he opens the lid and slides the old CD in, plugs his brand new earphones in and braces himself for impact before plunging into a deep pool of memories he’s not yet sure he’s ready to dive in.
> 
> When the first chords of the song fill in his ears, Jaehwan doesn’t cry, although his heart does clench painfully inside his chest. The first wave of memories hits — hard — and floods his mind with muddy pain in a matter of seconds.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _if i could, then i would_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DChHEf0lpEE)  
>  [_i’ll go wherever you will go_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DChHEf0lpEE)  
> 

 

 

 

 

The interview was heavy with the intent and gushing feelings of a handful of young boys trying to reach for their dreams desperately. Most of it was alright, words bouncing calmly off the walls of their practice room. While Wonsik waited for his turn, he wondered how its garish green hadn’t left all of them blind what with how many hours they spent locked in there. 

He didn’t have much time to delve into such thoughts, because when it was his turn, Byungjun didn’t hesitate to state Wonsik as his rival in more ways than one. For the first time since MyDOLl started, Wonsik felt threatened — not in a healthy, competitive way, but more in an aggressive manner that left him speechless for one second. He was there to fight for himself, for his own dreams, not against anyone — no matter how much their personalities were scripted, no matter how much of a tactic on Byungjun’s part it all was. 

The idea of having to face his group mate like a rabid dog if he wanted to defend himself made Wonsik’s stomach twist in distaste and fear.

 

 

The trip to the grocery store was longer than it should have been. Maybe because they had brushed off going to the little shabby-looking one that was down the block and had wandered off until they reached Cheonggyecheon Stream, maybe not. It was always hard to tell with them what was intentional and what was pure absent-mindedness.

“We’re so gonna get scolded,” muttered Jaehwan as he walked between the low aisles in search for the kimbap rolls in the refrigerator. He didn't seem particularly concerned about being scolded, though.

Wonsik stood by the register and just nodded wordlessly. When Jaehwan came back he was carrying not only kimbap, but also banana milk, soda, a bag of shrimp-flavored chips and a little box of hello kitty band-aids.

Once they payed for everything, they got out and walked a few steps, presumably towards home, until Jaehwan stopped in his tracks.

“Wanna hang out down there for a while?”

And even if he asked, Jaehwan never waited for Wonsik to actually answer the question. He simply took Wonsik’s hand and tugged him along, crossed the street and guided him down the stairs that lead to the stream.

“You’ve been really quiet today.” His eyes glinted in the street lights.

Wonsik twisted his mouth and huffed lightly. “You’re the talkative one here.”

“True,” Jaehwan admitted. “It still doesn’t explain why you didn’t say anything when you twisted your ankle during practice today,” he said, matter-of-factly.

The surprise in Wonsik’s eyes might have been glaringly evident, because Jaehwan let out a humorless laugh.

“You thought no one noticed,” he sighed, “but you forgot I always have my eyes on you.”

Wonsik held his breath, unable to respond properly. His heart leapt in his chest and his hands would have been shaking had he not closed them into tight fists. He’d always thought he was the one with his eyes on Jaehwan all the time — maybe he’d been too distracted for real.

And well, he still was since he didn’t see Jaehwan reaching out for him and grabbing his hand once again. Then, they both sat down on one of the wide stair-like bleachers. The promenade was empty on both sides of the stream, too late even for adventurous teenagers to be wandering around anymore — although the tall buildings, the night market and the short bridges were lit up, bright titans that both illuminated and turned the stream into a dark and secluded place. 

Wonsik felt anxious, somehow. The heavy conclusions he’d come to realize during the interview were still weighing him down and he didn’t know how to stop the wave that threatened to swallow him whole.

Jaehwan interrupted his train of thought with his next words. “Here,” he said, handing Wonsik the box of band-aids.

“What are these for?” Wonsik couldn’t hide the confusion in his voice.

“So the cuts on your fingers won’t become infected.”

Indeed, Wonsik’s hands were full of paper cuts. He’d recently gotten a few more than the usual due to his hasty compositions in the middle of the night, and he hadn’t really taken care of them like he should have.

“Did you have to pick the ones with the Hello Kitty design though?” What should have been a grimace because of Jaehwan’s lack of humor was only a thin smile on Wonsik’s lips.

Jaehwan grinned. “Of course. They enhance the color of your beautiful eyes.”

“Right, I forgot I have _purple_ eyes. What a slip,” he answered with a silly grunt.

“I’m here to remind you anytime,” Jaehwan tutted. “And while you stick those on, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been looking like a wilted pansy all week?”

That stopped Wonsik’s fumbling with the little sticky patches of gauze for a moment, although he quickly resumed what he was doing and just kept his mouth shut in hopes Jaehwan would let this one slip.

For all of his general impatience, Jaehwan could be very calm and composed when he wished to be. He waited as he chewed his lip — a habit he was asked to break months ago to not make makeup artist’s work any harder but that still caught up to him when he was worried. And honestly, Wonsik didn’t want to speak up about his current demons, but he knew Jaehwan was capable of making them stay outside the whole night if he really wanted to know what was bugging Wonsik. As much as he liked Cheonggyecheon and spending time with Jaehwan, Wonsik also liked to first, not be scolded, and second, sleep at least a couple of hours before they had to be up and running again, so he breathed in deeply and spilled all his recent worries.

He didn’t know how long it took — hell, he didn’t even know if what he’d said made any sense, but it was already out in the open and there was nothing he could do to hide it from Jaehwan’s intent eyes. So Wonsik simply stared at the stream, and the calm water running slowly in glistening rivulets helped soothe his racing heart slightly.

“I know I’m not supposed to pick sides here,” Jaehwan said a few minutes later, eyes also fixed on the sparkly water, hands clasped tightly. “But if anyone deserves a spot in the group, that’s you. You’ve never payed attention to the rest of the world and I think that’s how you’ve gotten so good at what you do. That’s the reason you’ve come this far, Wonsik, and some made-up personalities and petty comments shouldn’t bother you at this point.” He looked at Wonsik. “You’re better than that.”

“Jaehwan...”

“I like your raps better, anyway.” He finished with a shrug that made his shoulder bump against Wonsik’s.

And that might have been only a tiny piece of encouragement, but it lifted a heavy weight off Wonsik’s shoulders and brought a shy smile back to his lips, and that was more than enough for the time being.

*

*

> Jaehwan distinctly remembers having received this specific song. He remembers Wonsik extending a hand and giving the CD to him, he remembers the chills running up his arms when they came back from the grocery store, he remembers his heart hammering in his chest all the time when they were walking side by side.
> 
> The cheery, almost hopeful melody of the song is a blatant contrast to the grey sky and Jaehwan’s mood as well. It looks like it’s going to rain both literally and figuratively, and so Jaehwan sits on the couch and covers himself with a warm blanket in hopes the storm will go away soon. He lets the song play incessantly and takes his time until he’s ready to jump into another box of memories and he feels like it’s not going to rain anymore.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _i’d like to make myself believe_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psuRGfAaju4)  
>  [ _that planet earth turns slowly_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psuRGfAaju4)  
> 

 

 

 

 

The mud photo shoot was something none of them were expecting — not exactly, at least.

Everyone had been working hard on the gym for weeks, several hours every day to look good for the cameras. No mater how sick that general idea sounded like.

Long periods of time in the constant presence of each other resulted in them being mostly comfortable when half-naked. With a few exceptions, of course, like Taekwoon and Sanghyuk — but there was very little the others could do to fix that given their sort of atrocious situation.

Moreover, them being comfortable around each other didn’t mean they were so when a few cameras with monstrous lenses were pointing at them all the time and recorded their every move. It was hard enough undergoing such scrutiny with clothes on.

“I feel so observed,” Hongbin muttered under his breath. He looked mildly uncomfortable.

Hakyeon chipped in with a soft pat to his head. “Well, get used to that feeling if you wanna make it until the end, Binnie.”

“You gotta be strong,” Nakhun added while nodding slowly.

Hongbin bared his teeth, not at Hakyeon’s words, but at the prospect they presented him with. He had never really been fond of being the center of attention. Neither of them were in that sense, in all honesty — too young and inexperienced to separate their shaky, mostly teenaged selves from the stage persona they were slowly building.

Jaehwan looked uneasy as well, fidgety hands that could compete with Hongbin’s grabbing at nothing, rubbing his pants, covering his bare chest like some others were doing. He was biting his lip so hard Wonsik was afraid he’d end up splitting the skin and hurting himself in his anxiousness. Wonsik wanted to comfort Jaehwan, reassure him with a few words, ground him somehow, although he found it hard what with the fist that seemed to be closed tightly around his own throat.

There were cameramen, makeup artists and stylists, managers and editors milling around the changing room the group was crammed into and the warehouse where they were working for the day. And there were not that many people in the end, but they felt like a million. It was already pretty late at night and they were all weary, which only made Wonsik more nervous. He could also feel the distress seeping out from everyone’s pores — almost tangible in the cold air.

Byungjun showing up after being missing for a few days had put them all on edge as well, and Wonsik felt so full of emotions he was afraid he would burst into a thousand pieces of himself. He was more worried about the others, though, so he simply squeezed himself between Daewon and Jaehwan in a tiny couch and held their hands in hopes the gesture would, if not calm his nerves, soothe them a little at least.

 

 

Wonsik had a hand clutching his chest by the time Jaehwan finished the song. Jaehwan was holding his chest as if his heart was beating wildly as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever nailed a tune quite like this one in my whole life, oh my god.”

“You’re beautiful,” Wonsik gushed all of a sudden.

Jaehwan looked a little shocked but he smiled bashfully at him nonetheless, still too high on his success to really process what Wonsik had told him. “Telling lies is bad. Your nose will grow bigger and you'll look like Pinocchio.”

Wonsik giggled as he reclined his back on the tattered sofa. The idea was as ridiculous as Jaehwan himself was sometimes. “And no one wants that, right?”

After setting his headphones aside, on top of the whirring laptop, Jaehwan squeezed himself beside Wonsik. “Exactly. I’d like to still hold the title of the biggest nose of the group, if possible. It’s my charm.”

There was a huff coming from Jaehwan’s side but by the time he turned his head, Wonsik was already smiling at him.

“Don’t call me... that, though. I’m not.”

“What, beautiful?” Wonsik looked at him dumbfounded. Jaehwan nodded, eyes fixed on his bony hands. “You should see yourself when you sing, Jaehwan.”

 _You should see yourself doing anything_ was what Wonsik really wanted to say but never voiced out because he was a coward. Instead, he bit his lip nervously and observed Jaehwan, who was looking at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"If anyone is beautiful here, that’s you.”

Wonsik hoped that Jaehwan didn't mean it, that he wasn't as serious as his words felt, because he wasn't sure he could take it otherwise. He felt relief wash over him when his panicked face was effectively masked with a funny grimace made of ridiculously open eyes and a twisted mouth and Jaehwan didn't seem to notice how he'd almost lost it for a second.

“Have you seen my face?” he exclaimed.

"I have. Up close. Several times, I may add." He waved his hands in an oddly vague gesture. "It is a beautiful face."

Jaehwan might be a coward, as well, if the anxious glint Wonsik caught in his eyes was as telling as Wonsik thought. Jaehwan was all words and never-ending things to say until something he really needed to say came up, but Wonsik couldn't really blame him when he was guilty of the same sin to such an extent he felt shame cling to his skin like slime.

"You liar," he half-barked, not really mad but slightly hurt nonetheless.

However, sometimes Wonsik wondered if he was the biggest coward out there for real. He wished he could change things, but he didn't always have the courage to try to lift Jaehwan's self-confidence a little and make him feel better. Instead, Wonsik let him drown in his insecurities for the millionth time, and the thought of it had him drowning at a much quicker pace.

Wonsik felt horrible, but he was scared more than anything, and fear won the battle once again.

*

*

> He's gulped down half a cup of warm coffee by the time he's able to stop shaking momentarily. The song is sweet, soothing in a way, but the lyrics pierce through his ears and leave Jaehwan a mess of uncoordinated thoughts and stinging eyes. He's biting his lip so hard he's afraid the gesture is going to draw blood, but he doesn't mind too much. He's used to the pain, just another kind of.
> 
> Jaehwan closes his eyes, holding the thick mug with unsteady hands, and remembers the sound of muffled music through soundproof walls, the squeaking of sneakers after one too many hours of dancing, the taste of popsicles at three in the morning before going back home, the deep rumble of Wonsik's laughter, his firm hands on Jaehwan's face and his reassuring words. With a defeated sigh, he opens his eyes and lets the images dissolve in the contents of the mug he brings back up to drink from. When he takes a tentative sip, though, the coffee tastes a little sweeter than before.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _i’m slowly drifting away_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a5WyAjL1MM)  
>  [ _wave after wave_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a5WyAjL1MM)  
>  [ _i’m slowly drifting_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a5WyAjL1MM)  
>  [ _and it feels like i’m drowning_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a5WyAjL1MM)  
>  [ _pulling against the stream_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a5WyAjL1MM)  
> 

 

 

 

 

What was better than preparing a fun dance routine to perform in the middle of one of Hongdae's most crowded streets? Doing so with friends, of course. Wonsik had made sure to enjoy himself while preparing it, and it was more than likely that having Jaehwan in his team was part of the reason he wasn't even nervous when their low quality speakers started blasting music and they broke down into their dance.

Their mission was to get their team — Team Heaven — the most number of votes on Mnet’s Cyworld and in order to reach their goal they were going to pull out every single card they had up their sleeves. People were staring at them — some weirded out, some amazed, most of them curious — and Wonsik felt like he was going to dissipate within himself. He didn't know how the other team was doing but his concerns flew out the metaphorical window when he looked back and saw his own team dance in unison to the beat of the song: they all looked like they were having fun, smiling and jumping around despite their lack of experience in general terms. The whole routine wasn't the hardest they'd performed but the emotional weight the whole situation was putting on them was sure to leave them exhausted anyway.

Wonsik knew that all of the members of his team wanted to win, none of them really liking the idea of their spot in the group's final lineup being compromised. Taekwoon especially, with his competitive self, hadn't let any of them slack off when practicing, and Wonsik was thankful for that, for the support and commitment, for Yoonchul trying his best despite his insecurities and Nakhun helping him, for Jaehwan staying up late with Taekwoon even though he was nursing the worst cold ever.

Adrenaline shot up Wonsik's veins when they did their last steps, crowd hollering almost as loud as they themselves were and cheering in response to their powerful performance. Wonsik laughed openly, arms circling Jaehwan's waist and bringing him close as his hand landed on Nakhun's back in a cheerful pat. He didn't know what the result would be — Would they win? Would they lose? — but he was more than happy with their hard work and how well they had done, and that was enough of a reward for him.

 

 

They had been practicing for hours. Wonsik didn’t remember how many exactly, but they sure felt like a thousand years weighing down his tired bones. They were all sweaty, panting desperately for air after running through their new routines since early in the morning.

It wasn’t unusual that after such extenuating and prolonged exercise, at least one of them had to go pay a visit to the doctor. It had happened more times than they could count and became such a common occurrence that none of them jumped out of their skin in worry anymore. Wonsik still remembered the first time Taekwoon had passed out during practice, the utter panic and distress almost making him lose it too. He also remembered the first time the new trainees had seen Hongbin faint due to exhaustion, the horror and alarm in their faces while the rest of them handled the whole situation calmly — like a sort of nauseating routine they had down to a T.

 _Get used to it._ That’s what Hakyeon had told them in that empathetic voice he always used to say unpleasant things. It sounded like he was talking to kids, explaining things they didn’t want to know, even though Wonsik knew he never meant to be condescending.

It was Hakyeon too who was taking care of Nakhun today. He hadn’t fainted, thankfully, but Hakyeon didn’t want to risk it and had taken him outside to have him eat and drink something anyway. He’d left Wonsik with clear orders to take a short break and then keep practicing if they weren’t back in thirty minutes.

And only five of those had passed but none of them were gasping for air anymore, and the eerie silence had become an impromptu duet — Daewon and Jaehwan belting notes that echoed all over the room and lifted everyone’s spirits.

After three songs and many cheers from their spectators, Wonsik stood up and strolled towards the speakers. Everyone groaned in unison at the prospect of going back to work, but none of them protested and went to their positions in a second. Wonsik smiled, glad that the team was this ready to take care of each other and work hard no matter what.

*

*

> Jaehwan likes his job. He likes talking to nice old ladies when they ask him where the cereal boxes are. He enjoys helping little kids reunite with their parents when they get lost. He likes making up silly rhymes when he has to announce new products through the loudspeaker system. He likes how quiet the aisles become when the hands of the clock push closer to lunchtime. He likes having a somewhat steady pay, steady shifts, steady schedule. 
> 
> He’s thinking hard, too focused on trying to lie to himself that he doesn’t realize that he’s tapping his socked foot a little too nervously on the floor. His neighbors might complain about it later. His lip is red from how keenly he’s been nibbling on it.
> 
> Jaehwan likes his job and doesn’t think of what ifs or maybes. He never thinks about other possibilities, or what could have been of him. He never turns on his laptop and types word after word that only make him sink deeper. He never reads news articles, never opens interviews, performances or music videos. Jaehwan never checks Instagram, or Twitter. Jaehwan doesn’t know how many tattoos Wonsik’s got nowadays, or what color his hair is. Jaehwan never thinks about what color his own hair could have been today, if he hadn’t fucked up.
> 
> Jaehwan hates his job.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _i’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RYY0hwHIRw)  
>  [ _but your blade — it might be too sharp_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RYY0hwHIRw)  
> 

 

 

 

 

The early morning air was oddly revitalizing. Its crisp scent helped Wonsik battle the weariness of having slept one hour less than he was used to, which was already a ridiculous amount compared to what he was supposed to actually sleep. He liked that there wasn’t a lot of traffic yet, that the street lamps were still glowing orange cones down the pavement and honestly, Wonsik most of all liked not enjoying all of it by himself.

Nakhun and Jaehwan were definitely the ones who complained the most about waking up earlier than usual and having to run from their dorm to the company every morning for a few days. Their steps were heavy on the pavement and their panting breaths cut the quiet morning atmosphere sharply.

Taekwoon was as displeased as they were, but only pinched their necks while he muttered a hushed, “Don’t lose the team mission next time.”

Yoonchul observed the exchange with a tired smile as he struggled to keep up with Taekwoon’s pace. The eldest was clearly more bark than bite because in no time he was slowing down his steps almost imperceptibly so Yoonchul could run by his side.

He was right, though, Wonsik thought. They should try harder next time in order to win and not get such a ludicrous punishment. They should try harder, always, and come up with better strategies like Team Devils did with his pretty bunch of good-looking guys giving free hugs on the streets of Myeongdong and Hakyeon blinding everyone into never-ending infatuation with his thousand watt smile.

Wonsik turned his head and smiled when he saw Jaehwan and Nakhun leaning heavily on each other as they ran. He was not sure, but he might have heard them muttering something along the lines of _at least we won’t have to do cardio at the gym today._ That made Wonsik chuckle.

“C’mon,” he told them, voice loud and deep and more awake than he was really feeling. “Whoever arrives last buys coffee for everyone.”

The pair gasped in unison in outrage, and Wonsik didn’t have to look ahead to see that Taekwoon had sprinted down the bridge they were crossing like his life depended on it — Yoonchul’s squeak as he also followed suit was more than enough evidence. Wonsik laughed, feeling warm inside despite the morning chills ghosting over his skin. Good things came from bad experiences, after all, he thought as he reached back and dragged Jaehwan and Nakhun by the collar of their shirts. They just needed to work harder.

 

 

The view from their spot wasn’t the best, but it was still breathtaking in its little way. The buildings were starting to look like giant lit up lego blocks against the cloudy sky, and the line of the Han River was quickly turning from silver to obsidian.

Under his butt the concrete was merciless, cold and hard and not at all comfortable, but Wonsik still relished in Jaehwan’s warm presence by his side and didn’t complain about it. Gusts of wind beat against them, against the gigantic pillars of Banpo Bridge, and would have put out Jaehwan’s cigarette were he not covering the red tip with his hand adamantly. The light show of the bridge would take a few more hours to start, but they were ready to wait out.

A couple riding rented bikes passed by in a blur, and Jaehwan reached up to shield his eyes from the wind with the hand that was holding his cigarette.

"Don't hold that thing so close to your face." Wonsik was quick and snatched it away from Jaehwan.

"You don't even smoke," he said then, eyes caught on how Wonsik held the stick between his index and middle fingers with maybe too much confidence.

"I know," he answered, flicking it. The specs of ash got lost in the wind soon enough. "I just don't want the smoke to get in your eyes. They'll get red." And then, almost as an afterthought, he muttered, "You have sensitive eyes."

The way he gave the cigarette back to Jaehwan was absent-minded, just like the way Jaehwan took it directly with his lips and sucked in a deep puff. It was not absent-minded the way he then reached out and held Wonsik's hand, though.

"Aw, you care about me." His tone was mocking, but it held an underlying layer of anxiousness that Wonsik didn't miss. He did not bring it up, however.

He just looked at Jaehwan, brows scrunched and tone affronted, and answered, "Of course I do?"

And Jaehwan giggled quietly and his thick blanket of sadness seemed to slip a little off his shoulders. The wind blew again, unforgiving, and the hand holding the cigarette — the one that wasn't tangled with Wonsik's fingers — travelled up, to his face, to try and brush his bangs out of his forehead. Wonsik moved the hand away softly and did it himself, once again worried.

"Don't do that," he whispered, almost to himself.

Jaehwan smiled, flicked the ash away and didn't let go of Wonsik's hand for hours, no matter how cold it got there at the foot of the bridge.

*

*

> A whole week has passed since he’s bought cigarettes, Jaehwan muses. The last pack he got is still sitting innocently on the coffee table, almost as if it weren’t bearer of part of Jaehwan’s doom. Jaehwan is sure that there are at least ten sticks still inside.
> 
> He’s eyeing it absent-mindedly, looking at the box but not really _seeing_ it, when a new flash of memories has him reclining on the back of the couch and frowning at himself. His sister-in-law’s words ring louder than the lyrics of the song he’s now listening to.
> 
> _If you think you’re burning away faster than your cigarette, why don’t you do something about it?_
> 
> Jaehwan knows he should have listened to her years ago. He should have payed attention to her, to his brothers, his parents. He shouldn't have done so many things he now regretted, like burying his affliction in long hours of vicious chain-smoking. He should have done so many things he now regretted, like facing reality and not cutting ties with everyone.
> 
> But those things are done and buried already, and the only thing Jaehwan can do now is try to learn from his mistakes and change what he's not content with. The tiny pack is there, on the table, and when Jaehwan doesn’t feel the urge to reach for it like he used to, he feels the spark of a small smile tease his lips. All it takes are baby steps to start walking, after all.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _it’s better to burn than to fade away_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkBxcmxWKAA)  
>  [ _it’s better to leave than to be replaced_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkBxcmxWKAA)  
> 

 

 

 

 

As days ticked by, the tense atmosphere only seemed to become thicker by the second. They were feeling restless, uneasy in their own skin — more than usual, almost unbearably so — and there were sharp edges and cutting words where there used to be soft curves and encouraging reassurance.

Wonsik got it. He was also feeling worn down, tired to the bone in such a devastating way he was surprised he hadn’t collapsed yet. His raps were steadily becoming messier than usual, his dancing was all muddled up, his sleeping schedule was nonexistent.

They had been told by Mr. Hwang, the company’s CEO, that the final lineup of the group would be six people. That meant four of them would have been kicked out by the time MyDOL was over. It was decided, and the weight of it had fallen onto their shoulders like a boulder; they were at a breaking point.

And, if everyone was dragging their soul across the ground, Jaehwan looked like he had no soul at all. He was doing the worst out of everyone, in Wonsik’s opinion. Top that with him being like an open book of emotions and living attached to his hip 24/7 and you had the perfect recipe for Wonsik reading _disaster_ all over Jaehwan’s features. On top of everything, he had been scolded by their vocal trainers and CEO several times recently. They said Jaehwan was slacking off, that he wasn’t taking things as seriously as he should, that he wasn't doing his best, that he could do so much more. And just like it happened after their first individual evaluation for MyDOL, those words meant to wake him up from his daze and encourage him to improve his skills were only daggers stabbing him in the chest.

Open wounds bled profusely and everyone saw them, but they were too apprehensive, worried or zoned out to take care of them. Wonsik ached with the desire to make it all disappear, gather Jaehwan in his arms and tell him everything was going to be alright in the end. However, he was too worn out himself to do so, so he swallowed down the bitter lump down in his throat at Jaehwan’s sad puppy eyes and went through his dance routine for the millionth time that night.

Guilt was a strong feeling, although his survival instinct made sure to stomp it down.

When he saw Jaehwan blink back tears once more, Wonsik hoped he remembered the promise they’d made and was holding on to it as tightly as Wonsik himself was.

 

 

No one was expecting the outcome their situation would have on Jaehwan. It was obvious that he wasn’t alright — none of them were, really — but it still took everyone by surprise when he showed up at their dorm with a bloody face and defeat written all over his stance.

Wonsik had been in his room, already half asleep at nearly three in the morning when he heard Daewon curse over Hakyeon’s loud gasp. It took him roughly two seconds to bolt out of his bundle of blankets and dash down the hallway towards the living room. The sight that greeted him when he arrived into the room left him breathless; for a second, he was thankful that it was so late and his first instinct was to hold back his screams, because his insides started boiling as soon as he laid eyes on Jaehwan. He was not sure what got him, but the urge to scream his lungs off was so strong that it threatened to send him toppling to the ground in a frazzled mess.

“What happened?” His thoughts matched Hakyeon’s words, horrified whispers in the middle of the otherwise silent house. He looked so shocked he couldn’t even bring himself to walk closer to Jaehwan, maybe afraid that what he was seeing was real and not his imagination playing tricks on him.

Jaehwan had his eyes trained to the wooden floor of the entrance. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes yet. He looked shaken, frame quivering slightly — From the cold of the night? Fear? Shame? Who knew — and his hands were closed into loose fists. His knuckles were as bloody as his face, and Wonsik hadn’t seen all of it but judging by the way Jaehwan was holding himself, there was so much more to see. Jaehwan was good at holding pain in. He would be biting his lips nervously if they weren’t slashed with at least three different cuts.

“What happened,” Daewon repeated after a few minutes of silence only interrupted by heavy breathing, words more cutting than Hakyeon’s. He held his waist with jittery hands in a clear attempt at keeping himself composed; the others were still asleep, thankfully.

Jaehwan was scared. The feeling bled off him in potent waves, and his watery eyes only made it more obvious.

Before anyone could say anything else, Wonsik stepped forward and looked at Jaehwan intently. Only then Jaehwan seemed to realize Wonsik was there, because his body bolted up in an involuntary leap that had him wincing like a kicked puppy.

“Wonsik,” he whined eventually, and Wonsik’s stomach twisted in pain when he heard him. His voice sounded broken, as if he had the worst cold and his vocal chords weren’t in their right place.

This time the words sought for comprehension when they were spoken. “What happened?”

Jaehwan’s face scrunched up in a grimace, but he didn’t back away when Wonsik approached him with cautious steps. A quick glance back was more than enough for Hakyeon and Daewon to drag their feet towards their room and leave them alone, although reluctantly so.

Wordlessly, Wonsik held Jaehwan’s wrist, ignoring how Jaehwan jumped and winced at the contact, and lead them to the kitchen. Jaehwan could barely sit on the chair he pulled out as Wonsik rummaged through the cabinets in search for their precarious first-aid kit.

His eyes laid gentle but no less worried on Jaehwan when he took a sit in front of him. Hesitation was painted all over his face in deep reds and purple hues. The blood on the corners of his lips had dried out and had turned almost completely black; his left eyebrow was not bleeding anymore but it had been gushing not too long before, if the red tracks down the side of Jaehwan’s face were an indication. And despite his already pitiful appearance, Wonsik was sure that most of the damage wouldn’t be visible until the morning, when Jaehwan’s muscles had cooled down and turned stiff, the rush of adrenaline had subdued and left a trail of sore joints and a terrible headache, and the consequences of what he had done came to him with a blow harder than any of the ones he had received that night.

Something inside him told Wonsik he didn’t have to ask again because Jaehwan would be telling him what had happened in no time.

Effectively, a few minutes later, when Wonsik was done cleaning the cuts on his lips, Jaehwan talked. His voice sounded deeper than usual, even raspier than it had when he first arrived in the dorm that night.

"I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “Don’t get mad at me, please.” His eyes avoided Wonsik, who sighed in resignation as he took a clean cotton bud and soaked it in antiseptic.

“I’m already mad, Jaehwan,” Wonsik muttered, no real bite in his words. He looked at Jaehwan with tired eyes, extending a hand and cleaning up the bruise on his swollen cheek. “But more than mad I’m worried,” he added. “What happened?”

It took Jaehwan a few minutes to speak up again, and when he did it was barely audible — like he didn’t want Wonsik to hear it, like he was afraid of Wonsik’s reaction.

“They were... talking shit.”

Wonsik stared at him, blinking slowly, confused. “Who exactly is _they_ and what were they talking shit about that got you like this?”

“People,” he bit. “It doesn’t matter. They were saying things about you. Lies.”

Then it dawned on Wonsik what Jaehwan was talking about and horror crawled up his back with such sharp claws and teeth that he doubled over and had to hold his head between his knees for a minute. There had been rumors going around. Gossips about all of them being bad people, ruthless bullies, malicious whispers claiming that they often beat up the new trainees, that they’d beaten up their own girlfriends in the past. They were all unfounded and meant to harm, and most of them floated around Wonsik’s reputation like deadly ghosts he couldn’t shake off.

They’d been warned long before that people would try to hurt them. They would come across people who would hate them for no reason and would do anything to see them sink to their knees and lose everything they had worked for. Hakyeon had seethed quietly while Sanghyuk had worried his lip in dread.

“Jaehwan,” Wonsik started. “You can’t— You can’t _fight_ people, you can’t—”

“I didn’t _fight_ anyone,” Jaehwan scowled. “I tried to defend you and I was attacked.”

“Still, you—”

“It’s not like I could have run away anyways,” he cut. “There were too many of them.”

Wonsik swallowed hard. His hands were shaking as he held the soft gauze he was supposed to use to cover Jaehwan’s cheek; he didn’t think he had enough strength within himself to keep up his façade and not throw up the surge of guilt that had his stomach clenching dangerously. Jaehwan had literally taken a beating because he was trying to prove those people that they were wrong about Wonsik. Jaehwan had taken a beating for him.

The silence was deafening, only little gasps escaped from Jaehwan’s mouth from time to time as Wonsik patted a thin layer of ointment on his already blooming bruises.

“Will you...” Jaehwan choked out timidly, still a little shaky. “Will you stay mad at me for long?”

Wonsik couldn’t answer, but his look told Jaehwan the question he hadn’t voiced out.

“I need you to stand up for me now, because I can’t.” His lower lip was dangerously wobbly, his eyes shiny, and he refused to look at Wonsik in the eye when his voice died out at the end of the sentence.

And it was as if a steel hand had closed in a fist around his throat, because Wonsik was choking on his own tears in seconds and apologizing to Jaehwan as well, feeling like he had committed the most despicable crime by having left him to fend for himself for too long.

*

*

> By the time the song is over and his earplugs go silent, Jaehwan is bawling. He has buried his face into the nearest cushion to hide a handful of sobs that not only remind him of the context in which he received this CD, but also of what he had done back then.
> 
> He feels his knuckles burning again, the phantom sensation of dark bruises and open wounds between them, and desperation eats away at him when he remembers the look on Wonsik’s face when he first saw him after the fight. Jaehwan cries, lets out wail after wail and empties his heart of every ghost that has been haunting him for years — even though that only leaves him drained, hollower than he’s ever felt before in his life.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _pick apart_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _the pieces of you heart_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _and let me peer inside_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _let me in_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _where only your thoughts have been_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _let me occupy your mind_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
>  [ _as you do mine_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpN1j8R5lZ8)  
> 

 

 

 

 

“One of you will be eliminated after today’s evaluation,” Mr. Hwang said.

He looked upset, expression grim as if he dreaded that prospect as much as, if not more, than them.

“You’ve all worked hard,” he continued, hands clasped behind his back, “and I know you’ve done your best despite all the hardships you’ve had to endure. However, some of you have improved more than others in the last few weeks, and that bears unavoidable consequences.”

They were in the practice room, standing in a jittery line opposite the CEO of Jellyfish Entertainment, waiting for the final verdict. Wonsik shivered, suddenly worried that he wasn’t up for scratch.

“Are you ready to hear the results of this evaluation?” he smiled, trying to transmit some sort of numb comfort with his words. The calm before the storm.

The tense line of trainees bolted up straighter, shoulders stiff and hands sweaty.

“Taekwoon, Sanghyuk, Wonsik, Hakyeon, Byungjun — step forward, please.”

Time seemed to tick by too fast and too slow, seconds both frozen and boiling in a wild race down Wonsik’s veins. It was then, right then, when their future would be decided — at least for some of them. 

“You’re still in the competition. Congratulations.”

Every sense of relief that washed over them after knowing they were safe became paralyzing worry at the thought of knowing that one of the others would abandon them soon. The contradiction was painful, Wonsik thought as he stepped aside and left the line along the already safe trainees; he was happy that he wasn’t walking on thin ice so far, but the thought of Hongbin — Jaehwan — still there was choking him.

“Hongbin, Nakhun, Yoonchul,” Mr. Hwang announced afterwards. “Join the others behind me. You’re still in the group.”

Hongbin looked back, appalled, when he was told to leave Daewon and Jaehwan behind. His eyes locked with Hakyeon’s and Wonsik’s a second later, fear striking his features like he couldn’t register that he was still part of the game because one of his closest friends was yet to tip over the tightrope he was walking on. Wonsik welcomed Hongbin with shaky hands by his side, not even aware of the cameras rolling incessantly in every corner of the room.

This couldn't be happening. Daewon gawked nervously at Mr. Hwang, at them, at his own hands clenching and unclenching. Beside him, Jaehwan had his gaze fixed on the floor between his ratty sneakers and bit his lips, desperate. His long bangs covered his face, only his long nose peeking through the messy mop of hair.

Mr. Hwang cleared his throat and Wonsik felt his soul shatter when he came to the realization that no matter who won, there would be no real winner that night.

“You’ve worked hard for a really long time, boys,” he said, kind eyes not making things any better. “But one of you has been going through a... rough patch, let’s say, recently, and has slowed down his improvement compared to the rest of your team mates. At this point of MyDOL, none of you can afford that, unfortunately. It’s been a very difficult decision to make, but we’ve come to the conclusion that the person who won’t be a part of this project any longer is Daewon. I’m sorry.”

Then he added, almost as an afterthought, “Jaehwan, congratulations, I hope you do your best from now on.”

However, his words were never heard because in a second, nobody cared that the cameras were recording and everyone started crying.

 

 

Seeing Jaehwan cry so often was heartbreaking. 

Wonsik didn’t know what he could do to make it better for him, but deep inside he was aware there was really no fixing it — the wound was already open and bleeding thickly, and only time would stitch up the gashes and mend the broken bones.

After Daewon had left, there was an odd sense of emptiness in the dorm. They were so used to having so many people around that suddenly one less felt like the empty space could swallow them up and drown them in anguish.

Even though they had all been affected, Hakyeon’s encouraging words had helped them build their confidence back up for the most part — except for Jaehwan. He had barely talked in days, and he looked like he hadn’t slept a blink in years. He was yet to fully recover from his bruises.

What worried Wonsik the most weren’t the tears or the lack of sleep, though. Jaehwan had been told that he had cut it close back there with Daewon and that staying in the group had been a matter of one vote of difference. That he ought to go the extra mile and scrape the soles of his feet if he wanted to debut for real. That he needed to amend his mistakes, reflect on what he had done and think seriously what he wanted to do from then on. He’d been told all of that in a good manner, but Wonsik was afraid that the wake-up call had fallen on deaf ears and Jaehwan would sink to a place so deep and dark he couldn’t get himself out of there in time — all while Wonsik looked, helpless.

*

*

> Jaehwan is half-lying on the couch, head nestled against the plush armrest. There’s no more coffee for him anymore — the mug empty and cold for hours now — and he’s sort of glad because it is getting late and he knows he’s not supposed to drink caffeine at this hour if he wants to sleep. The slight quiver of his hands, which he’s using to hold himself softly, tells him that it may be a little too late for such precautions.
> 
> The thought of a hot shower flashes through his mind and most of the uneasiness slips away like water down the drain. The plan sounds ideal.
> 
> The song goes on, unfaltering, musical notes bleeding into Jaehwan’s ears pleasantly — wave after wave of sad lyrics tied like a ribbon to a rather blithe song. It makes Jaehwan’s lips twitch slightly at the same time it brings up the faintest urge to sing along. Jaehwan feels himself mouthing the lyrics silently, tentative, not too in sync with the singer because suddenly the words don’t come to him as easy, and he burns on the inside with something he thought he had lost long ago.
> 
> After the MyDOL fiasco, Jaehwan clamped his mouth shut and hasn’t sung a note ever since. He has tried, certainly, especially when he’s playing with his nieces, but whenever the occasion arises he instantly feels an acidic lump blaze up his throat and he closes his mouth again in fear he’ll throw up for the hundredth time otherwise.
> 
> He keeps humming silently for the time being though, heart drumming against his ribcage almost as if it wanted to escape its bony prison. And he’s a little dizzy with both excitement and dread, but Jaehwan doesn’t mind one bit for once.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _what am i supposed to say_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzCLLHscMOw)  
>  [ _when i’m all choked up and you’re okay?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzCLLHscMOw)  
> 

 

 

 

 

Wonsik, as the leader of his team for the last mission, expected to hold some sort of power over what would happen to his team. Especially over decisions on who would be a part of it. However, Byungjun was ready to steal the stage and snatch everything from under Wonsik’s nose with every biting remark and demand.

The situation was making him feel like a caged animal. He wanted to argue, fight for what he thought was fair, but them quarrelling was only making the others feel bad, like cattle Byungjun and him could trade and whose feelings and opinions didn’t matter. So Wonsik bit his tongue, stepped back and let things unfold. 

At the end of the day, the only thing he would regret was not having Jaehwan by his side and work together for maybe the last time.

 

 

Had any of what they’d done been worth it? Would his efforts pay off in the end? Was he making a mistake for trying to be a part of the entertainment industry?

Wonsik was feeling restless, tingling fingers and fluttering stomach caged in a room which was brimming with anxiousness. He knew he wasn’t getting any sleep that night — had known for weeks — but the sensations running through his head were too frenzied to guarantee him any rest anyways, so he wasn’t too worried about that.

For years, Wonsik had felt confidence in his steps, in every lyric he wrote or adapted to his raps, in the way he held himself on stage despite his inexperience. Over the past few weeks though, Wonsik had felt all of that fizzing, melting, slipping through the cracks in his bones. He had been worn so thin he didn’t even feel like himself anymore, like he had been flipped inside out and his former armor was now his worst enemy, like it had become but a tender façade that did nothing to protect him from the brutal world.

The clock announced 3:17 in the morning when he eventually sat in bed, unable to lay there, unmoving and quiet, any longer. He dragged his feet along the wooden floor, steps taking him sluggishly to the hallway — and a few seconds of hesitation later, to Jaehwan’s room.

It was pitch black when he opened the door and stepped in, even though he didn’t really need any light to guide him through the room. He’d been there countless times, probably more than in his own room. Wonsik inhaled a deep breath, suddenly more nervous than before when he caught Jaehwan’s scent wafting in the air, and waited for any sign that Jaehwan was asleep. When he didn’t hear soft snoring or deep, paused breaths, he walked the rest of the way in and wordlessly sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Hey.” Jaehwan’s voice emerged from under the blanket as Wonsik made his way next to him on the mattress. He sounded like he had slept too much, or nothing at all. Wonsik wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” Wonsik replied when Jaehwan covered him with the blanket. He didn’t sound any better, honestly.

“I don’t know why Hakyeon sent us to bed so early today,” Jaehwan said. “He knows more than anyone that nobody is getting a blink of sleep.”

Wonsik nodded, not fully aware that Jaehwan couldn’t see him, and added, “He just wants us to get some rest. We’re gonna need the extra energy tomorrow.”

Jaehwan said nothing but turned on his side and faced Wonsik’s way, if the steady breath grazing his cheek was any indication. Then, a sudden rush of emotions had Wonsik choking, heart too big for his chest and hands shaking desperately.

“Breathe, Wonsikkie.” Even through his panicky state, the sound of Jaehwan’s voice soothed him. “Breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”

What was wrong? Wonsik didn’t even know. He only knew that he was feeling too many things and that he couldn’t stop shivering.

“Jaehwan,” he choked out, unable to put into words his inner turmoil. 

How was he supposed to explain that he suddenly couldn’t remember any of their choreography? How was he going to tell Jaehwan that he was so afraid of mumbling so much during his performance that no one would understand him? How was he going to voice out his fears if they were choking him like the many words everyone insisted he always used when he rapped? His flaws became claws, merciless blades piercing through his chest and rendering him a wobbly mess.

Then, the claws became big, warm hands. Jaehwan’s fingers cupped Wonsik’s face in the dark and that gesture alone had him evening out his heavy breathing slightly — the touch soft, familiar and so comforting it brought tears to his eyes. 

“Hey, we’re gonna be alright,” Jaehwan whispered, thumbing Wonsik’s cheek slowly, and a tiny, hopeful smile was audible in his voice. “We have a promise to keep, don’t we?”

Wonsik took one of Jaehwan’s hands and clutched it between his own. He could feel Jaehwan’s faintly protruding knuckles and joints, his bitten nails, his bony wrist, but more than anything, he could feel Jaehwan’s pulse racing when he leaned in closer and kissed the corner Wonsik’s mouth, and Wonsik felt himself combust a little within himself.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, but it felt comforting having Jaehwan hold him, holding Jaehwan in turn as they did their best to keep it together. Wonsik fell asleep in Jaehwan’s embrace with the thought that he was going to do his best to keep his promise.

*

*

> It’s late at night when Jaehwan finishes listening to every CD he owns. They’re now stacked in a pile that he carefully puts back into its boxes when he feels strong enough to stand up by himself. He’s still shaky, nonetheless, although the city lights make up for a pretty view that appeases his wobbly legs and unevenly beating heart ever so slightly. 
> 
> He’s sure that what he has been doing all day must be self-torture at its best, but although bruising it had also felt sort of therapeutic. Maybe he’d just needed to remember certain things for a long time, maybe he’d needed to let himself feel pain, be hurt and broken, before he could build himself back up, let himself heal completely.
> 
> Things had not been easy for him back then. They aren’t currently either, if the misery clinging to him like a heavy sweater is anything to go by, but Jaehwan feels now more ready to take it off than ever. He’s scared of the cold, of being exposed without it, too used to be wearing it, to its burden. However, no matter how frightened Jaehwan is, he’s more eager to go out to get himself a new, cozier sweater — a brand new, more clement life for himself.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _미안해 나 요즘 많이 힘들어_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmv2VCRcEXM)  
>  [ _미안해 나 요즘 많이 지쳤어_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmv2VCRcEXM)  
>  [ _(i’m sorry, i’ve been having a really hard time lately_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmv2VCRcEXM)  
>  [ _i’m sorry, i’ve been really exhausted lately)_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmv2VCRcEXM)  
> 

 

 

 

 

Their cheerful “MyDOL, MyDOL, fighting!” was, in Wonsik’s opinion, a great start for such an important day. Personally, he would have chosen a less tacky catchphrase, but it was good enough to lift everyone’s spirits and ease part of the anxiousness that had had them ready to jump out of their skin since early in the morning.

The motto had been long forgotten though by the time they actually started to perform — first, as teams, and individually right afterwards — too tense, high strung to have in their minds anything that wasn’t an endless string of their name, age, dance routines and songs they needed to sing.

The actual performances were over in the blink of an eye, one going after the other so quickly that Wonsik was afraid something was wrong at first. He honestly didn’t know how he hadn’t fainted from all the tension building up inside his body. The handful of cameras everywhere and the implication of all the possible outcomes were threatening to send him toppling over to a nervous state he wouldn’t be able to recover from in time.

Most of them had cried over the course of the day — once, twice, who knew how many times. Emotions at this point were only skin-deep and so raw that they seemed to well up from their very core, rendering them helpless and at their mercy.

By the time it was Wonsik’s turn to perform, everyone had already crossed the door that led them to the stage and left him alone, in a sense. He was the only one who hadn’t had the chance to go out there and show everyone what Kim Wonsik was made of. He hadn’t had the opportunity to hold his destiny in his hands and shatter it on the ground just to pick it up and piece it back together again with the precision of a tailor, carve his name on the soles of his shoes and kick so hard he would leave everlasting footprints all over that stage.

He wasn’t really aware of what he was doing when he finally got on stage. He went on in precise auto-pilot, painstakingly fast and ready to blow up the whole cartridge. Wonsik wasn’t chancing saving a backup bullet if he could give his everything when it was time. 

Backup bullets had a high chance of becoming coppery poison in the future.

And, if performances and evaluations had been over in a heartbeat, the moment of truth rushed upon them before anyone could gather themselves and get ready for it. They all had to face the results, whether they liked it or not. 

Mr. Hwang was standing before them, lined up neatly on stage, in a second. “You’ve all done a great job,” he said. “But now it’s time to separate those of you who will debut on May 24th from those who need to practice a little longer and wait for their chance. Do not be disappointed if you’re not chosen, you’re all excellent boys.”

Little did the words do to comfort any of them, although they were too keyed up to really pay full attention. Wonsik shivered and bit his lip, feeling his throat go suddenly dry when Mr. Hwang called Taekwoon first and then Hakyeon and congratulated them on their upcoming debut in the new group. He felt some sort of numb happiness for them, knowing that they deserved the chance, but it all jumped out the window when he was the next one being called, alongside Byungjun.

“You’re both aiming for the same position, right?” he asked, and waited for them to nod their assent. “After a lot of discussion, we think that the group only needs one rapper, so one of you will have to leave.”

Byungjun side-eyed him right as Wonsik swallowed hard, eyes intent on Mr. Hwang. This was it. He would either be game or old news in a matter of seconds. Wonsik would finally see the fruit his work had born.

“Wonsik, congratulations. You’re debuting in this group.” 

And he had been hoping Mr. Hwang would be clement and chose him after all the effort he had put into everything, although it still came as a surprise when he heard the news. Everything spun for a second, lights too bright and too little oxygen in the room, and he barely registered briefly hugging Byungjun before Mr. Hwang was speaking again. A minute later, Wonsik was yet to come back from his daze so he didn’t fully process that Sanghyuk had been selected to be part of the group right after Hongbin had been and that that would leave at least one of the veteran trainees out of the equation. 

“Nakhun, Yooncheol, Jaehwan,” came the call. Somehow, the atmosphere became heavier than it was before. “There’s three of you, but only one will make the cut.”

The three boys shifted nervously; they didn’t know where to look, where to put their hands, how to stop themselves from shivering visibly. Wonsik felt his throat clamp, stomach twisting and brain going into overdrive. Who would remain?

“Nakhun, you’ve practiced the longest. You have been with us for a long time and trained for years, am I right?” Mr. Hwang said, and Nakhun nodded in anxious agreement. “Jaehwan,” he addressed then. “When you first came to audition, you couldn’t dance to save your life. You have improved a lot.” There were a couple of soft laughs, and Jaehwan’s lips tightened in a smile. “Yoonchul, you haven’t been with us for a long time, but you’ve become really popular among the fans.”

Time seemed to freeze for a second. Mr. Hwang’s eyes roamed over them, waiting for the best moment to deliver the verdict. Wonsik looked at him like he was expecting some kind of salvation — although he was certainly in a safe spot now — and at the same time didn’t want to hear him say anything.

“Nakhun, Jaehwan,” he finally announced. “I’m afraid you won’t be a part of the group. Yoonchul, congratulations on your debut.”

Everything was silent for a long minute. Then, Mr. Hwang congratulated them again and left the stage with heavy steps. Afterwards, much like back when Daewon was eliminated, everyone started crying as soon as the line was dissolved.

 

 

Wonsik hadn’t even walked into the dorm, but he already knew it was too late. Something in him had made all his alarms go off and they were all blaring in his head with the knowledge that Jaehwan wasn’t going to be home when he opened the door.

Effectively, there were people there in various states of sulkiness, disbelief, badly-concealed excitement — but none of them were Jaehwan. When Wonsik checked the room he would sleep in, it was empty. No books, no CDs, no clothes, no figurines, no Jaehwan. He reached for his phone hastily, heart beating now more wildly than it did a few hours earlier, but none of his texts were replied to, none of his desperate calls answered.

He cursed having had to stay back with Sanghyuk, Taekwoon, Yoonchul. He cursed having had to conduct more interviews, be in front of more cameras, deal with more scripted crap and not have time to comfort his team mates. He cursed having lost track of Jaehwan back at the performance hall. Now he was home, ready to embrace Jaehwan and tell him so many things, comfort him, wipe his tears... and Jaehwan wasn’t home. 

“He was out the door before we knew what was going on.” Hakyeon seemed apologetic, very sad and so, so tired. Wonsik couldn’t blame him.

That didn’t make up for what had happened and Wonsik was desperate, once more feeling like a caged animal all of a sudden. He needed out. He needed to scream, claw at something because he was feeling so much he was afraid he would give out and disintegrate. Why wasn’t Jaehwan answering his calls? Why hadn’t he waited for Wonsik before leaving? Was he okay? What if something happened to him?

Then, Wonsik’s steps came to an abrupt halt. He stared at the farthest wall like he’d remembered something, and walked to his room to check that, just as he’d thought, the CD he’d recorded for Jaehwan the day before was still sitting atop his laptop. Wonsik groaned, desperate, and felt himself shrivel inside even more. Deep inside, he knew it was a matter of time until things went back to normal — as normal as they could be, given the path he was walking — and he hoped the hollow well Jaehwan had left inside him would be full again someday because he would be back.

What Wonsik didn’t know back then was that years would pass before he would ever get to see Jaehwan again.

*

*

> There's a song that Jaehwan has never listened to, simply because he never got to receive its CD. He had vanished before Wonsik could give it to him. Would anything have changed if he had done so? Would Jaehwan have stayed? Would things be different now? 
> 
> The answer to those questions will forever remain a mystery.
> 
>  
> 
> [ _now please don’t go_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oxFIsENgM)  
>  [ _sometimes i hardly sleep when i’m alone_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oxFIsENgM)  
>  [ _now please don’t go_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oxFIsENgM)  
>  [ _i think of you whenever i’m alone_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oxFIsENgM)  
>  [ _so please don’t go_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2oxFIsENgM)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

When Jaehwan steps outside, the cool air hits him in the face with such mercilessness it almost makes him stumble back home again. He’s always been more fond of spring, anyways.

The bag he’s got slung over his shoulder isn’t too big, but it feels like a heavy burden pushing his shoulders down with the implications it carries alongside Jaehwan’s tracksuit, his sneakers and a fresh pair of briefs. He tries to ignore it as best as he can, afraid that if he thinks too much about it, he will chicken out once again. This is his eighth try.

He plugs his earphones in when the subway ride starts and listens to a carefully-made playlist he’s got full of Wonsik’s songs. They’re not exactly fit for exercising, but they’ve been helping him feel better for the past weeks, surprisingly, so he supposes something this familiar could be a positive push for him. He needs to do this, he needs to get out of his shell, cancel his absurd pity-party, pick a steady pace again and stop dwelling on the past.

However, it seems it’s the past that doesn’t want to let him go. When Jaehwan steps into the gym, the first thing he sees is Wonsik running on a treadmill at the furthest end of the room. He’s also got his earbuds in and a concentrated look on his face that Jaehwan knows all too well. His hair is a striking shade of silver bouncing up and down in a pigtail perched on top of his head. Jaehwan swallows hard and feels his feet itch with the urge to sprint out of the gym, run away and bury himself under his blankets until he forgets about this stupid idea.

It may be a little too late for that, though, because Wonsik lifts his head right then and his eyes lock with Jaehwan’s for the longest minute. For a fleeting moment he looks ecstatic, so happy, but his apparent glee seemingly turns into something akin to anger — probably when he remembers that Jaehwan has been ignoring him literally for years and he’s been a selfish brat who left him alone, beaten, broken and didn’t even say goodbye before disappearing. That’s at least what Jaehwan tells himself as he adds another figurative rock to the sac he’s had hung on his back for years.

Against his better judgement though, Jaehwan starts approaching him a minute later, because Wonsik is still staring at him like he thinks Jaehwan is merely a ghost, and the single thought that Wonsik may feel distressed because of him is making Jaehwan more anxious than he already is. He didn’t think things through, since he remains speechless when he stops next to Wonsik. Jaehwan has apparently forgotten how to talk, and it’s Wonsik who eventually opens his mouth, even though he refuses to look at him in the eye.

“Hey.”

It takes a second for Jaehwan to realize that Wonsik is addressing him before he answers. “Hey. How’ve you been?”

And he feels stupid. He knows that Wonsik has been doing good with the group, he knows Wonsik is popular and doing his thing. He knows the answer already.

“Not bad,” is his response though, and Jaehwan is a little taken aback by his slightly bitter tone. “You?”

Jaehwan opens his mouth while his hands grip the strap of his bag like it’s his only anchor in life, and thinks of what to say. Thinks of the past and how he’s _really_ been, and the restless snakes that live in his stomach tell him that lying isn’t really an option because the truth will surge back up in no time.

“Not good,” he says, as honestly as he can. He feels suffocated all of a sudden, knowing that it has nothing to do with how hot and humid the temperature is inside the gym. He starts sweating and feels dizzy, so he carefully sits down on the bench press beside the treadmill where Wonsik keeps on running stubbornly. Jaehwan doesn’t blame him; he would be as pissed as Wonsik looks if he were in his place.

Genuine anger, however, is something that surprises Jaehwan nonetheless. He had not seen much of that in the past.

Wonsik doesn’t say anything related to what Jaehwan had voiced earlier and that may have hurt him a little, but Jaehwan guesses he deserves it. He was an asshole back then, after all. Instead, Wonsik asks another question that leaves Jaehwan thanking heavens for having taken a seat. “Do you still smoke?”

“I— used to, a lot,” he replies after gathering his bearings a little. “When— After what happened— but I’m quitting now.”

Again, there is no clear reply from Wonsik’s side to what Jaehwan says, but he taps on the speed button several times and he starts running faster. Well, Jaehwan thinks, Wonsik seems to be somewhat affected by what he says, although he’s not sure if that is a good or a bad sign. 

There’s a very long, very awkward pause after that. Jaehwan is sweating profusely, deeply ashamed of the state he’s in but also proud of himself for not having fainted or run through the glass window to get away. Only the sound of the machines wheezing and whirring can be heard alongside a few people groaning and panting as they lift weights at the other end of the room. Jaehwan doesn’t usually enjoy silence, and this kind that seems to smother him further is something he’s not used to when he’s with Wonsik — no matter how long it’s been since they last saw each other. Four years is what Jaehwan tells himself bitterly, and another rock falls into the sack.

He feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest any second. Why hasn’t he run away yet? Why is he glued to the bench, unable to move but also unable to take his eyes off Wonsik — who is still ignoring him? It’s obvious that he doesn’t really want to have anything to do with Jaehwan, so why is he still there? And then it explodes inside him — the urge to say something he’s been holding for years already.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s so obvious that Wonsik hears it. It’s so glaringly obvious in the way his hands close into tight fists as they bounce by his sides and he purses his lips in a thin, tense line. His eyebrows are knitted, eyes intent on the door that’s slightly ajar on the wall in front of him.

Jaehwan doesn’t know if he’s doing anything good with this, but he keeps on talking now that he has found some strength to do so. “I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to apologize to you but I— couldn’t bring myself to before. I was too scared,” he explains, and he feels tears prickling his eyes but he refuses to let them fall yet. “I’m sorry, though. For being an asshole to you and the others. I must have worried you guys so much.”

Wonsik scoffs, but doesn’t falter in his race. Jaehwan goes on.

“I just— I don’t know what to say, Wonsik, other than I am truly sorry for what I did. You didn’t deserve it and— I really don’t know what I was thinking.” He’s losing strength as he talks, feeling like his words don’t hold any real meaning to Wonsik anymore. He finishes with a barely-audible whisper. “How I could do such a thing to you when I loved you so much.”

At that Wonsik whips his head quickly and finally, _finally_ looks at Jaehwan.

“ _Loved?_ ” he asks, and Jaehwan isn’t sure if his tone is a consequence of Wonsik not believing that Jaehwan could have had feelings for him or because Jaehwan is speaking in past tense. His eyes glint intently, anger slowly dissipating and pupils never leaving Jaehwan’s, while Jaehwan himself doesn’t know how to react. 

He had never been oblivious to Wonsik’s feelings in the past and he had certainly returned them, but neither him nor Wonsik ever acted upon them. Probably because it wasn’t the right time back then. Perhaps because they had too much on their plate and couldn’t handle more emotionally heavy relationships. Most likely because Jaehwan had been a coward.

“We couldn’t— We can’t be— It would never work out, so I—”

Wonsik is breathing hard, and Jaehwan has the jabbing feeling that it’s not because he’s been running for a while now. 

“Is it—” he pauses for a second. “Jaehwan, is it because I’m an idol? Is that why you wouldn’t—”

“No,” Jaehwan cuts him, although he recoils a second later, not knowing what to say. Was that the reason? It hadn’t been in the past, for sure. “I don’t know. We’re... different, I guess.”

“What the hell,” Wonsik scoffs. Angers seems to seep back into his voice. “When did we care about that in the past?”

“Never,” he admits, with a tiny voice. He’s sure he looks like a lost child, tiny and hunched forward in an attempt to protect himself from the panic slithering up his spine.

Wonsik is blinking furiously, fingers quickly making the treadmill stop. Jaehwan feels his hands shake at the thought of upsetting him further, of making Wonsik cry, and feels his own eyes sting with new tears as well. When will this never-ending cycle of hurting everyone and himself end?

Honesty is the best policy, they say, so Jaehwan clears his throat and decides that now that he’s knee-deep in the puddle, he might as well get all muddy and get it over with. Make it or break it.

“You’ve always been at the top. Always above me in every sense of the word, so I don’t think we could—”

“What do you mean by _above you_?” Wonsik cuts him sharply, eyes narrowing in that familiar way he used to send in Jaehwan’s direction when he felt like Jaehwan was spewing bullshit.

“You’ve just been... better, at everything. All the time— back then, and even now.” Jaehwan’s throat is slowly closing, words falling a little choked off his lips. “Look at you. Your group is popular and you’re good, you have lots of fans and you’re doing what you love. Meanwhile, I’m the most miserable I’ve ever been in my entire life. I hit a new low whenever I think I can’t sink any further, and only now I’m starting to try to do something about it.” He finishes with a mumbled, “That’s what I mean by you being above me.”

And honestly, Jaehwan isn’t expecting pitying words or even encouragement, but neither he expects to see Wonsik seethe. “Stand the fuck up, then.”

Jaehwan looks at him speechless, not knowing how to react to Wonsik’s words. He may cuss a lot in his lyrics, but he’s never one to do that when talking with others; Jaehwan has the feeling that he’s not changed much in that aspect.

“If you think you’re not up to scratch, stand the fuck up,” he repeats. “But don’t give me that excuse and expect me to be content with it when I know you’ve always striven for the best. Stand up, Jaehwan.”

There’s a pull in Jaehwan’s chest, something telling him to follow Wonsik’s command, and he’s not sure Wonsik meant it literally but he stands up anyways. His heart is beating so fast his legs feel like they’re going to give up any minute, but something in him has snapped and he’s not sure if it’s as upsetting as it is exciting. They’re both at the same eye level now. There’s something about having Wonsik stare into his eyes the way he is that leaves Jaehwan both messed up and comforted like he hasn’t been in a long time.

“Am I above you now, Jaehwan?" he says, and Jaehwan quakes. A wave of relief washes over him like a balm when he realizes that Wonsik isn’t really mad at him, although he feels Wonsik’s gaze roam still a little suspicious on him, almost as if he were challenging Jaehwan to find another excuse to walk away from him again and deny himself what he — they — can have. “Are you inferior now?”

Jaehwan shakes his head. No, he’s not inferior now.

Wonsik opens his mouth again, less angry and more _Wonsik_ than ever. His words are quiet and sound almost as hesitant and frightened as Jaehwan feels. “Are you going to run away again?”

When Jaehwan shakes his head no one more time, he knows he’s telling the truth.

 

 

[ _sometimes, something so broken can never be fixed_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2J7erJGlz4o)

 

 

Jaehwan feels like he’s got mice running in his belly. A flood of anxious fright has him at the edge of standing up and fleeing the coffee shop. However, he doesn’t have time to plan it out completely because Wonsik enters the place wearing the least inconspicuous look he’s ever worn, probably. Jaehwan guesses he either never learned how to go unnoticed or he doesn’t want to.

“Have you waited long?” He asks as soon as he sits in front of Jaehwan.

“Been here for thirty minutes because I was afraid I’d be late.”

They both laugh timidly, and it feels so very familiar.

Once Wonsik has settled and taken off his coat and scarf, they both order coffee — Jaehwan’s second of the evening — and go back to their seats. They stay silent for a while, but the atmosphere doesn’t turn awkward. Both of them exchange glances from time to time, a blush or two, a tiny remark on a few other customers sitting around them.

Things go surprisingly smoothly for only being the third time they see each other in more than four years. They chat, still about mostly banal things, but deep conversations start resurfacing the more they talk and it feels so natural Jaehwan doesn’t hesitate in his answers when Wonsik asks him about certain things.

“I still haven’t told the others that I’ve been meeting you,” he informs Jaehwan with his face half-hidden behind his steaming mug. “I’ll wait until you’re okay with me telling them, but I assure you they’ll be delighted. They miss you a lot.”

Jaehwan nods minutely, thankful for Wonsik’s understanding and also a little hopeful. 

He has been feeling rushes of strong emotions lately — very different from the ones he used to feel a few months ago, even though he still drowns in those from time to time — and he thinks it might be Wonsik’s doing partially. Or rather, the little seeds of trust he’s been planting in Jaehwan after it was clear that he was not mad at Jaehwan anymore and that he had always wanted them to be equals, remain the same they used to be — out in their little world, no worries, just the two of them.

It’s a little late when they have to part ways. Wonsik has to go back to his studio, Jaehwan needs to catch the last subway ride home. Before they leave, though, Wonsik picks something from the contents of his bag and slides it over the table. Jaehwan stares at it with fiery intensity, not knowing how to interpret the CD case that now rests before his eyes. There’s a tiny, tidy and very familiar R scribbled on the corner of the case. When Jaehwan takes it, hands shaky and pulse racing, he turns it over and reads the cover.

_Aron Wright - Build It Better_

He isn’t sure what it means. He’s never listened to the song so he doesn’t know what it sounds like, how the melody is or how the lyrics unfold, but he knows something for sure. Wonsik hasn’t forgotten about this, about the CDs and their songs and everything that made them _them_. He’s afraid of what he may find if he looks up, but he does nonetheless and he’s thrilled when he sees the tiny twitch that pulls Wonsik’s lips up in a sweet smile.

And this might just be Wonsik’s way of making peace with Jaehwan, but he has inadvertently handed Jaehwan what will have him make peace with himself as well.

For the first time in four years, Jaehwan cries happy tears.

 

 

[ _so we saved a few things that were spared_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2J7erJGlz4o)  
[ _and brought it to the ground_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2J7erJGlz4o)  
[ _‘cause you always build it better the second time around_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2J7erJGlz4o)

**Author's Note:**

> this was very, very hard to write for several reasons. feedback is much appreciated ♡ thanks for reading!


End file.
